


screaming

by playfulparkson (ghostbvrinnit)



Series: irondad oneshots [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Depressed Peter Parker, Depression, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbvrinnit/pseuds/playfulparkson
Summary: He didn't want to feel anything anymore; he didn't want to feel pain, sadness, loneliness, fear, anxiety. Weak human emotions and he didn't want to feel them anymore. He was a superhero for god's sake. He shouldn't feel like this. He didn't want to face his mind, knowing it would submerge him in dark thoughts and tantalizing nightmares that plagued him every time he closed his damn fucking eyes.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: irondad oneshots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612441
Comments: 6
Kudos: 113





	screaming

**Author's Note:**

> massive massive trigger warning. i mean it. if you are uncomfortable with depression, self-harm, suicidal thoughts/attempt i beg you not to read this.
> 
> your mental health matters more to me than reads/kudos.
> 
> you have been warned

Screaming. 

He's screaming; raw pain being shown as tears streaked their way down his face. He didn't care who heard him anymore, he was in so much physical and emotional pain. He can't stop. He can't register what he's actually doing. He just knew he needed to get it out of him before his heart just gave up - not that it would be a bad thing. 

Exhausted; he's so exhausted but he can't stop the screaming. His knees so weak they buckle underneath him, leaving him a sobbing mess on the floor. Running through his mind were all the times he had disappointed someone, all the times he messed up. How he failed every single person he loved. How everyone always left him. He just wanted to die. 

He starts banging his fists on the tiled floor, leaving them bloody and bruised, and the tiles cracking under his strength. He would have felt bad about it, but he just couldn't bring himself to care, focusing on the pain in his hands. They felt broken - good. He hoped they were as broken as he felt. He hoped that the bones in his hands were shattered, like his mind was. He deserved it. 

He didn't want to feel anything anymore; he didn't want to feel pain, sadness, loneliness, fear, anxiety. Weak human emotions and he didn't want to feel them anymore. He was a superhero for god's sake. He shouldn't feel like this. He didn't want to face his mind, knowing it would submerge him in dark thoughts and tantalizing nightmares that plagued him every time he closed his damn fucking eyes. The shooting. The building. Turning to dust. 

His throat was dry and hoarse, like sandpaper. He supposed the screaming had caused that. But it didn't stop him. His chest felt like a fire had been ignited inside, burning his lungs every time he drew a breath. It hurt to breathe, hurt to do a basic human function. Another reason he wanted to just stop living. 

He felt like he was losing his mind. The hand that was uninjured weaved its way into his hair, yanking at it, trying to stop it from happening. He was scared. As much as he hated to admit it, he was goddamn terrified of himself. He was a danger to himself and everyone else around him and he knew it. 

His blinks were getting longer. Mind sluggish as he felt the urge to just close his eyes. They were sore, probably red raw. Maybe, just maybe if he closed his eyes for long enough, he would never have to open them again. But he knew that was highly improbable. 

The unbearable sting on his arms was getting too much for him. He started whimpering. The thin cuts were leaking beads of blood. Most dry, others fresh. There was so many, way too many to even begin to count. None of them were deep enough to fatally harm him, but deep enough to cause him an indescribable amount of pain. Adding on to that, his knuckles had begun throbbing.

Everything in him just gives out, completely limp and overused. He feels so drained, and so, so tired. All he can do is curl up as small as possible. His heavy eyes don't focus on anything, blankly staring ahead. His mind separating from his body. Floating. He's not there. Head underwater and suddenly he's drowning, all feeling leaving his body. He supposed that this was what dying was like. 

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, his body lying there unmoving and stiff. But he knew it had to have been a while. He heard heavy footsteps outside his door, erratic breathing and fast pulse as whoever it was started banging on the locked door. 

"Peter. Open the door, please" Mr. Starks sharp voice made Peter want to start sobbing again. He could hear the strain and worry in it. But he couldn't bring himself to reply. 

The banging got louder and more frantic, and he could hear Mr. Stark panicking now as he threatened to knock down the door. A few stray tears leaked down his already painful face. He made a small moan of pain as the door swung open. 

"Peter! Oh god" 

In that moment he regrets everything that he's done, guilt twisting heavy like lead and ugly in his chest. He can so clearly hear the anguish and panicked horror in his voice. Tears well in his eyes once again as Mr. Stark suddenly falls into his vision, thudding hard onto his knees and scooping Peter into his lap with a grip underneath his shoulders and behind his knees. He still can't find the strength to even focus on Mr. Stark's face, but he knows he's frowning, saying things he doesn't understand and choking back sobs. 

"Shit Pete. Why - What did you do?" Mr. Stark's voice cracked as he brushed the hair off Peter's sweaty forehead. He then gently cupped the teens face, and Peter couldn't take it anymore. He gave in, allowing his eyes to fall shut. Unwilling to want to see the disappointment in his mentors eyes when he realises what a fuck up Peter is. 

"Hey. Nope. Nada Kiddo. You don't get to do this on me. Not now, not ever," Mr. Stark started tapping Peter's cheeks as the boy whined in protest. But he complied, opening his eyes again "There he is. You keep those big bambi eyes open for me Kiddo. I'm taking you to medical and they're gonna fix you right up. You hear me?" 

Peter didn't know whether it was because he physically couldn't, but he didn't protest as Mr. Stark picked him up and carried him bridal style out of the bathroom, towards the elevator. 

He could feel the vibrations of Mr. Stark's chest as he shouted instructions at FRIDAY, but everything was going fast – too fast and Peter couldn't be bothered to try and understand what was happening. 

He leant his head close to Mr. Stark, focusing on the heartbeat on his father figure. Exhaustion creeping up on him as he finally caved, allowing himself to slip into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> again, would say im sorry but im totally not.
> 
> i love whumping peter. i have a problem....
> 
> anyway, part two will be up whenever i feel like it.
> 
> leave requests, and ill try my hardest to do them.
> 
> -Lauren xox


End file.
